


Draco Malfoy Versus the Pumpkin Spice Latte

by dracoismytrashson (JGogoboots)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Pumpkin Spice Lattes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGogoboots/pseuds/dracoismytrashson
Summary: This is pure crack I wrote to cheer myself up. As some of you may know, yesterday marked the return of Starbucks' equally maligned and celebrated pumpkin spice latte! It got me thinking about how Draco would view the PSL. Would he scoff at it? Or would he scoff, but secretly love it and not want to own up to how delicious he thought it was? Here are the fluffy results. :)





	Draco Malfoy Versus the Pumpkin Spice Latte

**Author's Note:**

> You'll notice that this is a "Drarry in Muggle college" setting. It's been on my mind lately because I'm working on a multi-chapter fic with that scenario so that's why I chose it for this too.

It all started when they began frequenting the Starbucks near campus. The term had started a couple weeks ago, but neither of them were quite back in the swing of things yet, still groggy and bemoaning every morning as they rubbed bleary eyes and dressed in a flurry of jumpers and jeans, tugging sleepy limbs into folds of denim as they glanced at the clock and swore loudly. Normally, Draco preferred the pretentious place near their apartment, the one that served pour-over cups that took ten minutes to make, the one where tattooed and aloof baristas scowled at you if you requested cream.

Harry, on the other hand, didn’t particularly care _where_ he got his morning jolt of caffeine. His approach to coffee was much less about savoring and more about mainlining twenty ounces of sugared, milky brown liquid until he felt like he could function for a few hours. Honestly, he would have skipped the mug and taken his coffee in a damn IV if that were an option. It was about survival, not sensory pleasure.

Since they were perpetually running late these days, it was much more convenient to swing by the Starbucks, foregoing the lengthy process of pour-over cups in favor of the assembly line fulfillment of a chain, the well-oiled corporate machine clipping along at a brisk pace no matter how long the line got. Draco wasn’t happy about it, but it was either that or no coffee at all, which was a horrific prospect neither of them were keen to face.  

It was September, the autumnal air descending upon New York like a comfortingly chilly blanket. The scent of pumpkin baked goods wafted into Harry’s nose when he strode past his favorite bakery, and the satisfying crunch of golden and crimson leaves sounded underneath his boots as he walked the paths of Washington Square Park. Every time they rushed through the glass doors of Starbucks, they were greeted by a giant cardboard foldout proudly proclaiming the return of the pumpkin spice latte, a picture of a Starbucks cup brimming with whipped cream and a foamy brownish-orange liquid at the center of the ad. The first time they came in, Draco had wrinkled his nose in disgust and made a derisive huff deep in his throat as Harry rolled his eyes, preparing himself for another classic Draco Malfoy diatribe.  

“Why even order a coffee at all if that’s how unrefined your palate is? Why not lay out a plate of cinnamon sugar, arrange it into lines, and snort it like cocaine? I’m sure the health benefits are comparable,” Draco ranted as Harry ducked his chin beneath the lapel of his jacket, desperate to disappear as a couple young women in front of them glanced over at the snarky blond with raised eyebrows. “Any place bearing the moniker of ‘coffee shop’ should be banned from serving that saccharine garbage.”

“Not everyone can be as sophisticated as you, posh boy,” Harry groaned with narrowed eyes. He shot an apologetic smile at the women in front of them. The brunette in the pair smiled back a little flirtatiously, a blush forming on her cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let people like what they like. You’re _in_ a Starbucks right now. You can’t very well complain when you’re slumming it with us plebes.”

Draco put a protective arm around Harry’s waist and drew him closer, flashing the young woman a look of pure possessive contempt. Her posture withered, and she turned around. Draco could have that effect with minimal effort. Harry cocked an eyebrow and gave his boyfriend a crooked grin.

“What?” Draco asked, the very picture of mock innocence as he smiled back at Harry and kissed his cheek.

 

***

 

They repeated this routine for another week, Draco’s ire for the pumpkin spice latte eventually dwindling from embarrassingly loud rants to a muttered “disgusting” and a muted glower as he watched people amble away from the pickup counter with steaming cups smelling of pumpkin, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

Tuesday and Thursday nights, Harry had a very lengthy film class. He generally didn’t get out until an hour and half after Draco’s philosophy class ended. Nevertheless, Draco always faithfully waited for him, spending the time studying so they could take the subway home together.

However, for the last week, Draco hadn’t been nestled in his usual spot. Harry was used to descending the stairs and finding him huddled in the corner of a maroon couch on the lower level of the building, open textbooks littering the surrounding cushions as he rhythmically tapped the end of a pen on whatever book was balanced on his bent knees. Instead, Draco had texted him to say he was at the Starbucks not far away, the one that had become their new morning ritual. Considering how much he grumbled during their rushed morning sojourns to the chain, it seemed odd that Draco would _willingly_ go there. Despite his suspicions, Harry didn’t question it as he met Draco in the brightly lit coffeehouse, Draco’s long legs crossed at the knee as he sat in the largest, comfiest chair at the back of the shop. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing him on the way home.

“I thought ‘Starbucks was for capitalist drones with no taste who go wherever billboard ads tell them to,’” Harry quoted with a laugh as they boarded the C train.

“It _is_ ,” Draco petulantly responded, “I just happen to like that particular chair. It’s the pinnacle of study chairs. Not so stiff as to be uncomfortable, but not so slouchy that I get drowsy and lose focus. I can’t help it if it happens to be owned by a corporation I despise.”

Harry tilted his head and smirked but said nothing.

“What?! _I just like the chair_ , Potter. Stop leering at me!” Draco scowled and averted his eyes, crossing his arms as he nervously jiggled his leg. Harry clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

 

***

 

The following week, Draco continued to hang out at the Starbucks as he waited for Harry. Thursday night, Harry’s class let out half an hour early. Harry ambled over to the shop, smiling as he caught a glint of golden hair through the big storefront windows. As he entered and headed toward Draco’s now signature spot, he stopped dead in his tracks. Was that…it _was_. A Starbucks cup in Draco’s hand. Not totally unexpected considering that Draco was about 90% pure, raw caffeine at any given moment, but as Draco took a sip, unaware of Harry’s presence, he noticed something peculiar. An orange-tinted glob of white foam clung to Draco’s upper lip after he set his cup down. Harry watched as Draco licked it away, and resumed walking closer, taking care to keep his steps light. Instead of approaching Draco from the front, he crept around the edge of the raised platform Draco’s chair sat atop until he was behind him.

“Enjoying some saccharine flavored swill, Draco?”

Draco jumped as Harry placed a hand on his shoulder, causing his fingers to clamp around the cup until some foam crept through the small opening in the lid.

“Bloody hell, Harry! Warn a man instead of skulking about. Unless of course, your goal _was_ to give me premature cardiac arrest at the tender age of twenty-one,” Draco sniped, protectively holding the beverage close to his chest like a shameful secret. Harry leaned over the back of the chair and swiftly swiped a finger through the little pile of foam now gathered on the lid. “Wait! Don’t – um – ”

Draco floundered, seemingly incapable of forming any more words as Harry brought his fingertip to his nose. He sniffed the liquid.

“Hmmm…do I detect cinnamon? Cloves?” Harry took another exaggerated whiff and contorted his features into a look of faux contemplation, like he was concentrating extra hard on determining the scent. “Might that be… _pumpkin_ I smell?”      

“Don’t be silly, you know I don’t drink – ” Draco reached out a helpless hand as Harry sucked his finger into his mouth. Draco winced as he presumably braced himself for Harry’s reaction.

“Yep. Definitely pumpkin. Definitely cinnamon. And without a doubt, that is a pumpkin spice latte you’re clutching in your lap right now. Care to explain, Draco?” Harry fought back a chuckle as he smiled at his flustered boyfriend whose expression was growing more combative with every passing second.

“I don’t have to _explain_ anything. I just – ”

“You _just_ have been sneaking pumpkin spice lattes every Tuesday and Thursday night like all the college girls you’ve been complaining about for the past month!” Draco had a habit of being elitist about many things only to finally realize he actually enjoyed the very thing he’d been scoffing at for months. It was a triumphant moment Harry never tired of, and this was no exception. He wouldn’t let it go until Draco had absolutely admitted he loved PSLs.

“It’s all because of the stupid samples! They just…sit on the counter like tantalizing little sugar traps, and I couldn’t help myself. There’s undoubtedly some addictive food additive in the stupid artificially flavored syrup they use.” Draco finally set the drink down and crossed his arms defiantly as Harry took a seat across from him.

“Had one taste and now you’re hooked?”

“Yes! Now will you stop looking so damn smug about it?! Obviously, I’m not _proud_ of the fact that I _like_ this syrupy abomination or I wouldn’t be consuming it in secret like a junkie in a heroin den.”

Harry broke out into peals of laughter, his shaggy-haired head thrown back.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking something popular, you hipster weirdo. Just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Say ‘I was wrong about pumpkin spice lattes. They’re actually really good.’” Harry leisurely leaned back with a contented sigh, hands folded over his stomach expectantly.

“Are you bloody serious, Potter? You can’t – ”

“I’m wwaaiittiinngg,” Harry sang with a smile. Draco groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I was wrong about pumpkin spice lattes. They’re…actually really good.” Draco bitterly spat out the last three words, as though it physically pained him to admit such a thing.

“Good. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Harry scooped up the latte from the table in-between them and tried to take a sip. But before he could tip the cup back, Draco greedily snatched it. 

“Get your own, Potter! Every last pumpkiny sip of this shameful beverage belongs to me and only me.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, here's my Tumblr if you ever want to say hello :) 
> 
>  
> 
> [It's me!](https://dracoismytrashson.tumblr.com/)


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